


and you would be safe

by wrennette



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Additional Tags to Be Added, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Discussions of slavery, Gen, Maul dies in the first chapter and stays dead, Suicide, amputation via lightsaber, exposition via Obi-Wan, grumpy-wan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-16 01:57:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14154177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrennette/pseuds/wrennette
Summary: Small differences gathered grain by grain shift the start of Obi-Wan's journey as a Jedi Knight.





	1. an early arrival

**Author's Note:**

> is this patently unrealistic even for the galaxy far far away? perhaps, but that's sometimes half the fun. updates every few days.

Quarsh Panaka, security chief for the Queen of Naboo, paced the corridors of the royal yacht, restless with the desert wind howling outside. His Queen was out there, dressed in roughspun and without his protection. The Jedi would watch over her, he knew, but it was not the same as protecting her himself. He let out a breath of exasperation and continued on his rounds. He could not fight the storm, could not fight the desert or the darkness. There was no enemy he could defeat to protect her. It infuriated him. 

The soft grunts and thumps of exercise echoed through the cargo hold when Quarsh reached it, and he paused in the hatch, watching as the young Jedi jumped and spun, lithe body gleaming with sweat. The Jedi completed his acrobatic maneuver and landed, then turned his eyes to Quarsh. Bright and pale, the Jedi seemed to read not just Quarsh’s expression, but his soul. The intensity was dialed back after a moment, and Quarsh realized in that instant that the young Jedi was worried as well. 

“All is well,” Quarsh affirmed, and the Jedi gave him a wry, crooked smile.

“As well as it can be,” the Jedi agreed. “And yet you are as restless as I am. There is something coming.” Quarsh stiffened at that, embarrassed at being caught out, and alarmed at the vague warning. 

“Ser Jedi?”

“Obi-Wan would be fine, Captain,” the Jedi said, still smiling. “Would sparring ease you?” It was a gentle offer, and Quarsh bristled slightly before forcing himself to remain calm and polite. The Jedi was only trying to be helpful. He let out a deep breath. “I have offended you,” Obi-Wan noted almost curiously, and Quarsh felt his agitation begin to bloom once more. “That was not my intent,” he said sincerely, and Quarsh’s annoyance seeped away at the chagrin on that mobile face. This Jedi was young, younger than Quarsh by quite a few years. Perhaps he needed a few more sessions of diplomacy training.

“I know it was not,” Quarsh admitted. “I am merely agitated, and it seems it will take little to inflame my irritation.” Obi-Wan nodded, keeping himself still and inoffensive. Despite the agitation prickling under the guard captain’s skin, there was something Obi-Wan quite liked about his presence - for the most part he felt steady, competent, sure of what ought to be and how to work towards that outcome. “Call me Quarsh,” he said finally, “and finish your exercises as you will, I have duties to attend to.”

“Quarsh,” Obi-Wan acknowledged with a dip of his head, and the Captain nodded in turn, then showed himself from the hold. Obi-Wan watched him go, almost unconsciously mapping the breadth of shoulders and lengths of limbs, the sturdiness of the Captain of the Queensguard. An able man, Obi-Wan thought, and then flushed at the warmth that had sparked in his stomach. Right. Just what he needed, he chided himself. He was still struggling to release the long-held desire he had for his Master; adding another inappropriate infatuation on top of that would be singularly unwise - but also about par for the course. 

With a sigh, Obi-Wan resumed his exercises. As he had told the Captain, he too was uneasy. All was well, yes, but there was something coming. His bad feeling from the Trade Federation ship had returned, although it was just a little niggle at the back of his mind for the moment. He would have to meditate on it later. For now, he had three more exercises to work through to complete his daily routine, and then perhaps a light meal. With all their running and fighting, he was expending energy rapidly, and there had been little time to eat between arriving on Naboo and escaping the blockade. Best he replenish his stores while he had a chance. 

Obi-Wan was still flushed from exercise and the ‘fresher, but clean and properly dressed when next Quarsh saw him. He looked up at quiet footsteps from the datapad he’d been frowning at, and watched the young Jedi enter the galley. Perhaps his nephew’s age, Quarsh estimated, a man, but not too long ago an adolescent. And yet there was a quiet gravity to the Jedi that was not all mystery. This young man, Quarsh was sure, had seen horrors that would make others weep. It was what Jedi did after all, and yet he could not help but feel a little regretful that a man so young might already be so burdened. 

“May I join you?” Obi-Wan asked Quarsh when he’d gathered tea and food. 

“Please,” Quarsh said politely, gesturing at the table. Company wouldn’t be remiss. “You have been to war before,” he observed, and Obi-Wan looked up with slight surprise. Most simply assumed his reticence was either in his nature or due to his Jedi training. Few looked past that and saw that he was a battle scarred veteran despite his young age. 

“I have,” Obi-Wan said with a nod.

“What should we expect?” Quarsh asked, leaning forward with a grim expression. 

“The Trade Federation are cowards,” Obi-Wan said firmly. “I fought in the Hyperspace Conflict. The Trade Federation would not move so aggressively unless they are sure of success; they very carefully calculate their risks. That they have immense resources and powerful political backing should come as no surprise. 

“I shall speak plainly Captain; Naboo has few allies. Your people have been very isolated until very recently, and few will care about a world of which they know so little. Beings care what happens in Corellia or Chandrila or Alderaan because they know it will affect their own world. What happens on Naboo - before, it has never meant much to the galactic Republic. But if the Trade Federation wins this time, they will gain a great deal of leverage.”

“You are so certain they will win?” Quarsh asked, trying not to lose heart, and the Jedi shook his head. 

“You misunderstand me,” Obi-Wan said with a gentle almost-smile. “They are powerful. They are rich and well protected. And they cannot win Captain. Because they are fighting for profit and power, and your people - they are fighting for their homes, for their loved ones. Do not underestimate the strength of your people. For love a man can move a mountain.” Quarsh relaxed back slightly at that, strangely comforted by this young warrior’s fervency. Yes, he must believe in his people. 

“Thank you Ser Jedi,” Quarsh said, nodding. “I suppose I should have expected such wisdom from a Jedi, even one so young.” Obi-Wan laughed softly at that. 

“Better to measure a man on reality than expectation,” Obi-Wan said with a smile. “But I am glad to have relieved your mind. I will not give false hope Captain, even if the Senate should move in favour of Naboo, it will take time. The Trade Federation will do all they can to press their advantage and draw this out. That they do not have the Queen is a small victory. For now, it is the only victory necessary. But the Naboo will need many more victories in the days to come.” 

Quarsh nodded, understanding. It settled him a little further, that the young Jedi did not try to assure him all would be well, their path smooth and untroubled. While Quarsh had never fought in a war, he was educated enough on the subject to know such statements were rarely true. The Trade Federation had invaded, was imprisoning their people. They would have to fight to assert their freedom, and that victory would be hard won. 

“I will take the overnight watch,” Obi-Wan said. “I have some tasks yet to complete for my Master, but I will take my rest before long, so I may be alert when true darkness comes.” Quarsh thought about resisting, but he knew that he too would need to rest; overtiring himself would do him no favours. Instead, he nodded, then rose. 

“Rest well Ser Jedi, I shall hope we have no more need of your skills,” Quarsh said in parting, and Obi-Wan smiled at the sentiment. 

“So too shall I, Captain,” Obi-Wan said. “May the Force be with you.” Quarsh nodded, and showed himself from the galley. While he had opposed the young Jedi’s suggestion of landing on Tatooine at first, Quarsh’s patrols had taken him through the guts of the ship, and he was well aware by now that despite the dangers, Tatooine provided them a needed reprieve. He was still hesitant about the Queen seeking aid from the Senate - as Obi-Wan had said, that body moved but slowly, and Naboo did not have the luxury of time. But his Queen had spoken, and it was not in Quarsh to disobey her dictates save when her life was in immediate peril. 

Turning once more to his patrolling, Quarsh spent the next few hours walking the yacht, speaking with the crew when they crossed paths. Things were quiet, but there was a tension in the air that Quarsh disliked. He thought at first that perhaps it was merely agitation at allowing the Queen out from under his eye, or perhaps restlessness brought on by the howling storm outside. But when the young Jedi reappeared, graven faced, to take his turn on watch, Quarsh feared there was more at risk. He merely raised an eyebrow in question. 

“Whatever I felt earlier - it has focused its attention on us,” Obi-Wan said. “You know the strength of your Queen and your guard far better than I do. I depend upon you to remain with them and oversee their safety if our defenses are breached. While I shall do my utmost, I am but one.” Obi-Wan left out that the feeling that now rankled at the edge of his senses was, while unfamiliar, not utterly unknown. There was a Darksider nearby, one that might be willing to take on the Jedi. Quarsh grimaced, but nodded. “The main hatch is the weakest point,” Obi-Wan continued, “I will focus on patrolling that area, but I will sense if we are breached somewhere else.”

“Force be with you Jedi,” Quarsh said, and gripped the younger man’s shoulder.

“And also with you Captain,” Obi-Wan returned, along with the grip. They parted, Obi-Wan to pace the corridors near the ramp, Quarsh to set up the rest of their defenses. The storm intensified as the night deepened, scouring the chromium plated hull with sand and piling it deep around the landing struts. In the small hours of morning, the winds finally began to peter out, and Obi-Wan settled in the entry bay to meditate, gathering his strength for the confrontation he could feel coming. 

Outside, the night stilled. In the cockpit, Quarsh bolted upright as their proximity sensors chirped, and then continued chirping. There had been other alerts, but the alarms had been silenced quickly when they saw only native animal life passing through. Now, a dark garbed being on a speeder followed a surveillance droid toward them. The trouble the young Jedi had anticipated was on its way.

Flipping through the surveillance feeds, Quarsh found the Jedi himself. Obi-Wan knelt, seemingly at ease in the loading area. His heavy robe had been abandoned, and the gleaming silver hilt of his ‘saber turned slowly in the air before his closed eyes. Quarsh raised an eyebrow, but chalked that up to Jedi shenanigans. The young man might have seen war, might be a more than competent fighter, but he was still a Jedi.

The controls by the door shrieked as external effort was focused on them. Obi-Wan reached out with the Force in turn, and nearly recoiled in horror. This hunter wasn’t merely a Darksider. The Dark corruption engulfing this being was infinitely stronger than that which had surrounded the Fallen Jedi Xanatos, who Obi-Wan had faced more than once. Obi-Wan had never felt the like, and the name of the ancient enemy of the Jedi stirred in his mind. 

_Sith_.

Obi-Wan thought carefully but rapidly, weighing his options. Allowing the Darksider access to the interior of the ship exponentially raised the chance of bystander casualties. Opening the access hatch though, even if only to let himself out, could backfire disastrously if he failed to defeat this Darksider on the open sands. 

In the open though, he could best utilize the bounding, acrobatic style of lightsaber combat in which he had been trained. Ataru would be a weakness in the constrained corridors of the ship, and he wished to give himself no preventable handicaps against this Darksider. Their battle promised to be difficult enough without adding further constraints.

“Captain, I’m going to exit the ship. Secure all access points once I’m out. If I am killed, or even incapacitated enough that I cannot prevent this being’s advance, lift off and contact my Master,” Obi-Wan said. With that, Obi-Wan rose, his lightsaber hilt falling into his hand. The hatch hissed open, and Obi-Wan used the veiling steam and airborne sand to dodge quickly out and to the side. The hatch sealed closed behind him, and he crept closer to the storm in the Force that had come hunting. 

Obi-Wan got as close as he could before activating his ‘saber. He took the last few meters at a sprint, then launched himself airborne, somersaulting over the Darksider and swinging downward. The hunter’s blade hissed to life. 

Red. 

Red was the colour used by the ancient Sith, red from the blood of the kyber forced to Darkness’ will. _Sith_ Obi-Wan’s mind repeated. _Why did I think staying with the ship would be boring_ , he bemoaned to himself, then settled into the Ataru ready stance, visually cataloguing his opponent.

Red and black skin, with a crown of pointed horns not terribly unlike some Zabrak Jedi Obi-Wan knew. Most Zabraks he had met had brown skin though, ranging from medium fawn brown to deeper, cooler shades. Some of them had tattooed their skin in culturally important patterns. None though, had the deep, black markings this being boasted. And while many Zabraks had yellow to gold to even orange eyes, Obi-Wan had never seen one with irises so virulently yellow in shade, nor with so strongly pronounced a ring of red around the edge of the iris. 

_Sith_ the Force sang in Obi-Wan’s ears, and then the Darksider was in motion. They were fast, was Obi-Wan’s first thought. Aggressive. Obi-Wan’s own fighting style had often been labeled as such, and their duel would pit them strength against strength, speed against speed. Ataru’s advantage was in attacking, in overwhelming your opponent. The Darksider though, was utilizing a style of which Obi-Wan recognized only flashes; Juyo, which Master Windu had reworked into a style all his own as Vaapad, channelling Darkness into Light. 

Obi-Wan’s opponent’s Darkness was unrelieved, unrelenting, never transmuting into flaring Light as Master Windu’s Vaapad would. Obi-Wan took a deep breath as they flashed back from one another, appraising one another again, circling, their feet finding only uncertain purchase on the shifting sands. The Darksider - Sith - bared their teeth, the Force roiling about them in rage and aggression. Obi-Wan carefully regulated his breathing, forcing himself to remain steady and even as he watched his opponent. 

The red blade flashed forward, concentrated hate behind the strike. Obi-Wan countered as much by instinct as training, and their blades clashed together. They circled again, and then Obi-Wan went on offense, bounding around and over the Darksider, raining down arcing blows. The Darksider countered aggressively, deflecting what they could and catching the rest on their blade, bowing but not breaking under Obi-Wan’s attacks. The Darksider was wrongfooted by Obi-Wan’s initial flurry of strikes, but soon recovered, returning Obi-Wan’s aggression. 

The two warriors struck and parried, driving one another back and forth across the sands. They were remarkably evenly matched in skill and speed and strength. Obi-Wan wondered fleetingly whether they were as evenly matched in stamina before brushing the thought aside. _Here and now_ , he reminded himself, the words echoing in his Master’s familiar tones. The present needed to be his main concern. He twisted under an overhand slash, whirling his blade to guard his back as he turned. 

Obi-Wan kept hold of the Force as much as he could, letting it guide his defense, timing his every step, his every swing to the pulses of that ineffable energy. Resolutely he kept fear from his heart and worry from his mind. He _would_ protect his charges. Time and again their blades met, each of them landing glancing strikes, searing one another’s flesh until the chill air stank of burning meat. Finally the being’s furious attacks left a slight opening. It wasn’t much. Obi-Wan stepped into the gap regardless. 

Blue blade caught against red, and Obi-Wan strained, pushing with everything he was. The Darksider gave a step, growling with anger. Obi-Wan knew that anger would strengthen the Darksider in the Force, and that he couldn’t wait, couldn’t afford for the Darksider to gain that advantage of strength. He took hold of his indomitable will and threw himself into the deciding moment. 

With a cry of fear, the Darksider tried to disengage, and while their blades parted, the outcome wasn’t what the Darksider would have wanted. Obi-Wan’s blade swept the Darksider’s feet from beneath them, amputating both legs cleanly just below the knee. Cho mok was survivable, would allow Obi-Wan to question his opponent. More importantly, the move had bypassed the Darksider’s defenses and rendered them unable to escape.

“I will not surrender,” the Darksider hissed, and buried their own blade in their chest, arm jerking to the side and nearly bisecting themself at mid-chest in their death throes. Obi-Wan cried out in negation, and the Force roiled with the Darksider’s death as Obi-Wan went to his knees. The empty desert swallowed both cries, and Obi-Wan stared in shock at the body. 

What type of life had this being led, to be so enshrouded in Darkness? What had they suffered, that could make death seem preferable to defeat? He shuddered at the implication. _Sith_ the Force whispered, and he shivered again. If there was one Sith, who was to say there were not more?

A warm hand clasped on Obi-Wan’s shoulder roused him from his exhausted fugue an indeterminate time later. He glanced up, the pull of his skin telling him that the rising morning sun had dried his silent tears, then begun to burn his space-pale skin. Quarsh Panaka stood over him, concern writ on his face. Pain began to make itself known in Obi-Wan’s arms, his legs, his torso. While a fully powered lightsaber cauterized the wounds it inflicted, that only made the subsequent damage more difficult to heal in those who survived their wounds.

“I am well,” Obi-Wan reassured. “They were a Force-user, their death - it has been difficult to reconcile.” Quarsh had no response for that. Obi-Wan blinked, then took a deep, shuddering breath. “We should contact the others, and warn them in case this being had accomplices. If there is a stasis pod, I would like to bring the body to the Temple for examination.” 

Quarsh nodded, still amazed by the fight he had witnessed. Both combatants had moved at times faster than his eyes could follow, visible only as streaks of light burning in the dim moonlight. Finally, the lights had blinked out, and he watched as the Jedi went to his knees. For a few minutes, he had remained in the ship, unsure what to do. Perhaps the Jedi was praying? But as the twin suns crept up over the horizon and neither combatant moved, he had left his post in the cockpit and walked out into the sands, not sure if he was retrieving one body or two. 

“We have a stasis pod,” Quarsh confirmed, looking the Jedi over. The chill of pre-dawn had wicked away his sweat for the most part, but burns singed through pale tunics, cataloging the intensity of the fight. “I’ll go get it,” he said after a moment, when it became clear the Jedi would not rise. 

Obi-Wan nodded, and he was alone again. He needed badly to meditate, but was also uncertain he could find the serenity within himself to properly commune with the Force. While he had taken life before, this felt different. It felt as though something fundamental in the universe had shifted just slightly, and nothing would ever be the same. The Captain returned with the stasis pod, and moved toward the body. 

“No,” Obi-Wan said, and finally rose. His legs ached, the large muscles burning with lactic acid, and stinging pain where he had been struck. “Just open the envelope, I’ll do the rest.” Quarsh shrugged, but complied, curious. 

Obi-Wan concentrated, and it took a few moments longer than usual for the Force to answer his call. He definitely needed to meditate. He took a shuddering breath, and lifted the corpse, abandoned robe, and lightstaff hilt into the pod, then reached out with his senses. The surveillance droid was still nearby, and so he pulled that to them as well, nodding at Quarsh to close the envelope of the pod. They returned to the ship, leaving the speeder behind.


	2. a late arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't dislike Qui-Gon, but I think of him as particularly single-minded, often to the detriment of those closest to him, and Obi-Wan is often the one closest, and therefor the one dealing with the immediate fallout when Qui-Gon buggers something up.

By the time Qui-Gon Jinn returned to the ship in the morning, he was barely able to subsume his anxiety. It took all his control not to push the eopies past their endurance under the burning suns, mentally reminding himself that if he pushed the beasts of burden too much, it would only take longer to reach the royal yacht. The security chief Panaka had reported all was well and Obi-Wan was recovering, but he wished to see the truth of that with his own eyes. While Qui-Gon trusted Panaka, he was agitated that his Padawan had been called upon the defend the ship with deadly force in the night, and yet Qui-Gon had been unwarned by the Force. 

At Qui-Gon’s side, Jar Jar and Padmé rode in tense silence, subconsciously mirroring the Jedi’s anxiety. On almost any other day, Qui-Gon would have made quiet, gentle conversation to try and ease them, but he was preoccupied by the thought of his apprentice laying injured in the sands. He imagined Padmé was just as worried about her handmaidens, although from Panaka’s report, the only injuries had been garnered by Obi-Wan. 

Obi-Wan met them at the ramp when they arrived, knowing that his Master would be worried about him. Qui-Gon scanned Obi-Wan both visually and in the Force. To the naked eye, Obi-Wan seemed well and whole, although Qui-Gon could also see new patching and mending worked into his tunics, tabards and leggings, and he was standing somewhat stiffly, as if in some degree of pain. It was likely there would be fresh ‘saber burns on Obi-Wan’s skin beneath the mends; hopefully the royal yacht had a goodly supply of bacta. 

“Master,” Obi-Wan greeted with a less graceful than usual bow, “we’ve prepared the engines for the new hyperdrive. The pilots report that their initial checks indicate that otherwise, all is as it should be with the flight systems. All are in good health and spirits, and we’ve had no further security breaches.” 

Qui-Gon had a thousand questions, but for the moment he simply nodded. It was clear that for the moment Obi-Wan wanted to pretend all was proceeding according to plan, and Qui-Gon would need to get back to Mos Espa himself before too long. A conversation about Obi-Wan’s necessary actions could wait. With the help of some of the pilots, Obi-Wan lifted down the new parts and headed into the ship towards the engine room as if it were any other day. Turning from the corridor they had taken, Qui-Gon shook his head, then met the dark eyes of the Queen’s Head of Security, Quarsh Panaka. 

“He asked me to show you to the body,” Quarsh said. “He’s gone through and inventoried all the decedent's belongings himself.” He held out the datapad Obi-Wan had given him, still a little amazed at the fight he had witnessed, and then the sobering activities of the young Jedi afterwards. Obi-Wan had carefully gone through every scrap and fold of his opponent’s clothing, pulling out and cataloguing comms, datachips, various weaponry, poisons, and all sorts of other materiel before cleaning up and seeing to his own wounds. 

Quarsh had gently smeared bacta over the myriad burns in the young Jedi’s skin, unable to stop himself from briefly touching older scars, silvered with age. It gave further credence to the idea that Obi-Wan was a war veteran many times over. Some of the scars that dotted his torso and limbs must have been made when Obi-Wan was little more than a child. The proof saddened Quarsh rather than reassuring him; he had ached for the boy the Jedi once was, his protective nature roused despite the clear proof that Obi-Wan could well protect himself. 

“I’ve also loaded the information from the ship’s security systems beginning when we noted the intruder on our proximity sensors,” Quarsh said. 

Qui-Gon nodded, taking the datapad and gesturing for Panaka to lead the way. Qui-Gon read as they walked, face grim as he looked over the deadly arsenal the attacker had carried. This being was an assassin without question. They would have to get the datachips to the slicers as soon as possible to see if he could be traced. It was possible, probable even, that he had been hunting the Queen for the Trade Federation, but Qui-Gon didn’t want to rule anything out. 

“I’ll take a closer look when I return, I need to deliver the animals back to their master,” Qui-Gon said, tucking the datapad into one of his belt pouches and getting himself a drink of water. Quarsh nodded, keeping silent. No small part of him was dismayed by the evident lack of interest Jinn showed in Obi-Wan’s wellbeing. Perhaps Jinn simply knew Obi-Wan was well and would recover fully, Quarsh thought, and had no need to ascertain that in person. And after all, who was Quarsh to question the ways of a Jedi. So he returned to his duties, and Qui-Gon returned to Mos Espa.

During the entire long, hot walk though, Qui-Gon debated. Obi-Wan’s notes on the datapad were clear; his Padawan named the assassin not only Darksider, but Sith, and Obi-Wan was no alarmist to be jumping at shadows. _Sith_ , a terror they had thought long dead. A nemesis they thought defeated. Was it possible that their ancient enemies had simply gone into hiding? 

The Force swelled ominously, supporting that supposition and raising the hairs on the backs of Qui-Gon’s arms. Their enemies had been careful then, had adapted to a galaxy in which they were supposed to be extinct, had learned how to disguise themselves. Qui-Gon shivered. _Ignorance_ , he chided himself. The Jedi would have a great deal of knowledge seeking to do in near future. 

Before long, Qui-Gon was headed once more out into the desert. Anakin Skywalker trudged beside Qui-Gon, tears evaporating off his round cheeks. Still rattled by Obi-Wan’s fight and the knowledge that the Sith had survived to threaten the Republic once more, Qui-Gon was mostly silent as they walked. Anakin too had gone quiet, although for very different reasons. The boy was trying to hide his emotional pain at leaving his mother, but he was not yet capable of dismissing such strong feelings. Qui-Gon would teach him, although that was a matter for another time. After all, they would have hours of hyperspace travel during which to talk. 

“This is Anakin Skywalker, he’ll be coming with us,” Qui-Gon said when they returned to the gleaming yacht. Panaka said nothing, although Qui-Gon couldn’t help but feel that he’d somehow lost some of the man’s respect over the past day or so. Entering the ship, Qui-Gon led Anakin back toward the cabins, but before they reached them, Obi-Wan stepped out of the engine room, stripped to his pale undertunic and sweat-damped from head to toe. 

“Master,” Obi-Wan greeted, eyes lingering on the boy who practically clung to Qui-Gon’s leg. Another pathetic life form for Obi-Wan to mind, he imagined; poor child.

“This is Anakin Skywalker,” Qui-Gon introduced. “He’ll be returning to the Temple with us. Anakin, this is my Padawan - my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Obi-Wan said politely, wondering briefly what about such an unassuming child had drawn his Master's attention before he remembered the sample he'd run before the trouble in the night. Ah. The source of the mysterious midi-chlorians. Poor child indeed. 

“And you sir,” Anakin said somewhat shyly. 

“Just Obi-Wan is fine,” Obi-Wan said, seeing the boy’s reticence. “I would offer to show him around, but we’re still double checking that all systems are go for travel,” he apologized politely, gesturing vaguely at the engine room. After all, the boy would need a crash course in Qui-Gon Jinn and his intense but wandering attentions.

“I can help with the engine, I’m good at fixing things!” Anakin offered with the eagerness of someone who had been told all his life to make himself useful, _valuable_. 

“I would appreciate it,” Obi-Wan said after a moment. Anakin looked up at Qui-Gon in wide eyed hope. 

“Go on,” Qui-Gon said with a tired smile, and Anakin followed Obi-Wan into the steaming engine room, already chattering about how nice the ship was. Knowing he would be of little help to his more mechanically inclined Padawan, Qui-Gon continued on to their cabin and cleaned up, then headed to the cargo hull to look at the assailant once more. By the time Qui-Gon finished inspecting the body, re-reading the inventory of the decedent’s effects, and watching the security footage, Obi-Wan and Anakin had finished installing the needed parts and hooking everything back together, and were performing system tests. 

Anakin sat entranced near Obi-Wan, staring up at the young Jedi with something like awe. As they had worked through the overly-warm engine room, Obi-Wan had sweated through his thin, sleeveless undertunic, exposing the myriad scars and new wounds on his arms and shoulders. The material was translucent enough that Anakin could also see the pale patches of bandages adhered to the skin of Obi-Wan’s torso.

“What happened?” Anakin asked innocently, reaching out to poke at patch of white bandage on Obi-Wan’s side. Obi-Wan resisted the urge to hiss, even that slight pressure paining him. 

“Master Qui-Gon told you we are protecting the Queen of Naboo?” Obi-Wan asked, and Anakin nodded eagerly. It sounded terribly important, and if the Queen were half so sweet and pretty as Padmé, her people must surely love her. “A - an assassin was trying to hurt her,” Obi-Wan said, a partial truth. The boy’s Force presence was strong enough though he’d likely feel an outright lie, and his life as a slave would mean he knew what that feeling meant. “We fought, and they were able to hurt me.”

“Is he dead?” Anakin asked with a rather disconcerting enthusiasm.

“They are,” Obi-Wan affirmed. “If they had won, they would have killed me, and the Queen, and likely everyone else on the ship.” It was a depressingly pragmatic statement, and it rang with truth in the Force. 

“They?” Anakin asked, brows furrowing.

“Well I don’t know if they were male or female, and some beings have non binary genders,” Obi-Wan explained. “I call most beings ‘they’ unless they tell me preferred pronouns.” 

“Oh,” Anakin said, “I’m a he.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said, smothering a smile and wiping his hands on a rag, then comming the pilots to check the readings. After a few more checks, the pilots reported greens across the board. They were ready. “Would you like something to eat? I imagine it’s well past mid-meal by now,” Obi-Wan offered as the ship began lift-off procedures.

Anakin managed to brighten even more at that, and Obi-Wan rose, quickly shrugging back into his mended tunics and tabards and retying his sashes. Years of practice made the donning of his layers of linen the work of but a few moments, and then he was as put together as he could be when he only had one set of clothing and they were singed almost beyond repair. 

“Come along then, I’ll see what we can find,” Obi-Wan said, and held his hand loose at his side - not reaching for Anakin but keeping his body language open and welcoming in case the boy wanted the comfort of contact. A small, work-hardened hand wrapped around Obi-Wan’s fingers, and he led the way to the galley.

Some of the guardsmen and pilots were in the galley when Obi-Wan and Anakin walked in, and they tipped their heads respectfully to the young Jedi. The footage of his battle had already made the rounds among them, and they were all well aware he had likely saved their lives. Obi-Wan flushed lightly, nodding in turn, and ushered Anakin to the food storage areas. 

“Are there things that make you sick if you eat them?” Obi-Wan asked gently. His own stomach was all but durasteel at this point, but he remembered well the way he’d retched after the strict rationing of Melida/Daan or year on the run with the Duchess of Mandalore. He imagined a roughly-dressed boy on Tatooine didn’t eat much better than an orphaned child soldier of Melida/Daan or a fugitive Jedi roughing it on Draboon.

“Don’t think so,” Anakin said. “Not unless I eat too much or too fast.” Obi-Wan nodded, extrapolating that rich food would also be unwise at this point. Just as well, it was likely stores were low, and his own stomach was still queasy from his brush with Darkness earlier. There were vacuum-sealed pouches of grains though, that would cook into hot cereal with the addition of boiling water. He prepared two servings, then added some nutrient rich additives, mostly fruit and some protein powder that wouldn’t make it taste too chalky. 

“Try this out, only eat as much as you can without making your belly hurt, okay?” Obi-Wan said seriously, handing over the bowl and a spoon, then looking around for an empty booth. There were plenty, so he settled them in one a bit away from the off duty guards and pilots and handmaidens who sat in ones and twos and threes. “So how did you meet Qui-Gon?” Obi-Wan asked when Anakin had slowed down a bit after wolfing the first half of his meal. 

Anakin stammered his tale somewhat shyly at first, but slowly built up his momentum. The more he spoke, the more alarmed Obi-Wan became. He had put together that this boy was the being whose blood he had tested for midichlorians. But an enslaved boy of nine? There was no way the Temple would admit him as an Initiate. At nine, an Initiate was preparing to become a Padawan, not learning the basics of Force use and ethics, and who knew what the rest of Anakin’s education had been like. 

By the time Anakin finished his tale of adventure, Obi-Wan was fuming, although he did so quietly. Anakin was yawning, and despite that it was only mid-day by the ship’s chrono, Obi-Wan thought it might be best to let the boy rest. He knew he needed further meditation himself, if only to expunge the anger bubbling beneath his skin about how his Master had ‘acquired’ Anakin. A bet! A bet on a sentient being’s life. It curdled Obi-Wan’s stomach to even think of it. 

A few years as an Initiate tracked to the Service Corps would perhaps give Anakin the time and space to properly catch up, Obi-Wan thought, but it seemed Master Qui-Gon had already let Anakin become fixated on the idea of becoming a Knight. There was no question of the boy going back to Tatooine though either; he’d simply be re-enslaved, and likely sold away from his mother now that he was a valuable commodity as both pilot and engineer. 

Mentally, Obi-Wan flipped through his own contacts, compiling a list of who he could trust to look out for Anakin if the boy chose a civilian path. Melida/Daan, he thought. Last time Obi-Wan had spoken to Nield, his friend had told him that despite a decade of growth and rebuilding, Melida/Daan was still catastrophically underpopulated. They needed desperately to attract settlers, but couldn’t afford enticement packages. He knew plenty of his former comrades among the Young were looking for children to adopt, and a kind-hearted boy like Anakin would be treasured just for being a child, although his skills would also be valued. Maybe they could even manage a collection to free his mother.

Obi-Wan rose, grimacing slightly at the pull of one of the wounds in his thigh. Further meditation would also speed his healing which could only be a good thing. He paused as Quarsh Panaka entered the galley and surveyed the room. Dark eyes fixed on him, and Quarsh nodded. 

“I was looking for you,” Quarsh said, and Obi-Wan fought down a flush, remembering the warm weight of skilled hands as they gently bandaged the singes and burns he’d acquired in his early morning combat, and trailed over the silvery scars left by older wounds. 

“Captain?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“Quarsh,” the Captain reminded. “You’re due to have your dressings changed.”

“Thank you, Quarsh,” Obi-Wan said. “I was going to escort Anakin here to my room and see if my astronav text interested him since he’s expressed interest in piloting and engineering. If you wouldn’t mind accompanying us, I have a medkit there?” Anakin perked up at the mention of the astronav text as Obi-Wan had hoped, and Quarsh nodded.

“That’s because you protected the Queen, right?” Anakin asked, proactively taking Obi-Wan’s hand this time. Obi-Wan smiled gently at the boy. 

“It is,” Obi-Wan said. “In the Jedi Order, there are three types of Knights. There are Guardians, Sentinels, and Consulars. Guardians are Jedi who usually get sent to solve problems with the edge of a blade. Our colour is blue, and if I turned on my lightsaber, it would have a blue blade, as most Guardian’s weapons do. Consulars like Master Jinn generally research and speak to people to solve problems, and their blades are usually green. Sentinels are the cunning investigators who do some of both, and they mostly have yellow blades. There are some variations of course; Master Jinn is an excellent duellist despite being a Consular, and because I have trained under him, I can also argue almost as well as I fight with my ‘saber.” It was a simplistic breakdown of course, but the explanation kept Anakin’s attention as they walked. 

“Of course, that’s just the Knights,” Obi-Wan continued, admitting Anakin and Quarsh to the quarters he shared with Qui-Gon and finding them empty. “One of my friends Garen is training to be a Knight-Pilot, so once he’s done with his apprenticeship, most of his missions will be flying rather than ground fighting or treaties or anything like that. And my other friend Bant is in training to be a Jedi Healer. There are archivists and teachers and even farmers in the Jedi Service Corps, spread out through the entire Republic.”

“Jedi _farmers_?” Quarsh asked somewhat incredulously as Obi-Wan unbuckled his belt and stripped to his smallclothes. Anakin stared at the sheer damage to the young Jedi’s body. He’d noted the pale patches of bandaging already, the silver scars scattered over Obi-Wan’s spacer-pale arms. But Obi-Wan’s back was a lacework of ropy scarring that Anakin recognized all too well. Someone had whipped the Jedi, scoured his back and then left him without treatment as if he were the meanest of pit slaves. 

“Hmm,” Obi-Wan said, rummaging a bit and finding a medkit. He offered Quarsh some of the bandages, taking a few himself and beginning to clean and dress the wounds he could reach himself. “I was sent to the AgriCorps myself,” Obi-Wan admitted with a nod. “Thankfully Master Qui-Gon intervened before long, I’m not meant to be a farmer, but they also do a great deal of important research to help people in marginal environments grow crops and things like that, and environmental remediation projects. 

“I was stationed on Bandomeer, to try and ameliorate the damage from the mining. They have other outposts as well - a big one on Taanab, I don’t remember the others. The ExplorCorps has posts all over; they go through old ruins, dig things up and such, chart out into Wild Space. MedCorps staffs our Halls of Healing, but also has clinics, and does medical research. EduCorps provides teachers and archivists for all the Jedi Temples, as well as free schools on a lot of worlds.”

“I doubt most know of even half those functions,” Quarsh said, gently taking bandages. He carefully removed one of the larger patches he’d affixed earlier, exposing the long, carefully stitched wound beneath. Despite that a lightsaber cauterized instantly, Obi-Wan had been cut to the bone in some places, and Quarsh had had to carefully debride the burned flesh so that living muscle could be carefully sutured together by the med droid, lest the young Jedi lose use of his arm. It had taken all his courage to carefully cut back the dead flesh with a little laser scalpel, exposing live muscle and red blood beneath.

“No, I’m afraid most only ever see the Knights, and not always in a positive light either,” Obi-Wan said. “The bounty on lightsabers is astronomical.” Quarsh blinked at that, slightly shaken by the idea a Jedi might be hunted simply for the fact they were a Jedi, and by Obi-Wan’s simple acceptance of that fact. He cleaned the sutures and then applied bacta and covered the cut again, then saw to the smaller burns scattered over Obi-Wan’s back. 

“Who whipped you?” Anakin asked, the question bursting forth no matter how he tried to hold it in. The life of a Jedi was looking less and less like the romantic adventure he had always imagined. Quarsh’s hands stilled, his mind catching up with what his eyes had seen but not quite recognized. He felt the Jedi tense slightly, then sigh softly. 

“I was taken into slavery on Bandomeer,” Obi-Wan said, reaching up unconsciously to touch his throat, where the collar had weighed so heavily. “Master Qui-Gon found me before too long. Just as well - I don’t make a very good miner, either.” Anakin wanted to bristle at that, at the Jedi’s flippancy and Qui-Gon’s earlier insistence that he hadn’t come to free the slaves. But his ire faded quickly; he recognized Obi-Wan’s morbid humour all too well. It was the humour of the dying, the humour of those sent to work noon shifts under the twin suns, the humour of the walking dead.

Anakin all but threw himself at Obi-Wan at that, startling a pained breath from the young Jedi at impact. Obi-Wan looked somewhat bemusedly at the boy cuddled against his chest, then sighed quietly and gently stroked his corn-silk hair. He’d have to make sure Qui-Gon didn’t lose sight of what the boy actually wanted and needed in favour of chasing his own interpretation of the ‘will of the Force.’


	3. an awaited trial

Obi-Wan spent what he could of the next few days with Anakin, biting his lip against amusement when he saw the boy interact with Padmé. It was clear Anakin had a terrible crush on the young Queen, who maintained her handmaiden disguise to spend time with the boy. She was incredibly kind, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but respect and admire her for a number of reasons, but her sweetness to a lost and homeless boy was at the top of his list. 

While spending time with them, Obi-Wan let himself be ‘coerced’ into telling tales of past missions, and carefully worked in his time both with the Young of Melida/Daan and with Satine on the run, in hopes that Anakin could begin to draw some parallels. While members of the Service Corps were not held as strictly to the Code as Knights were, most did not form families while they remained in the Order. He also told tales of some of the expeditions he knew about, investigating ancient temples or charting the Unknown Regions, even going on search for Force Sensitive younglings to be brought to the Temple. 

The more time Obi-Wan spent with Anakin, the less inclined he was to agree the boy should train to become a Padawan and later a Knight. Anakin felt things incredibly strongly; he loved his mother, and missed her deeply, was understandably afraid for her. He feared too for his friends and the others he had known in the slave quarters there on Tatooine. While Obi-Wan didn’t feel comfortable drawing a direct parallel, he couldn’t help but see similarities with his own fears while on Bandomeer, and his even earlier emotional volatility as an Initiate which had nearly precluded him from being chosen as a Padawan. 

Obi-Wan did his best to alleviate Anakin’s fears, or rather, distract him. He helped Anakin with his somewhat dodgy knowledge of Aurebesh, galactic cartography, systems of governance and innumerable other facts that took Anakin’s fancy. When curiosity wasn’t enough to distract Anakin, Obi-Wan kept him occupied with more physical tasks with the help of Quarsh and the pilots on board. 

Anakin was a kind and selfless child, and he made friends easily with the crew. He also soaked up information like a sponge, was incredibly curious, and asked questions Obi-Wan would never had thought of himself. In short, he was a nine year old in an uncertain situation, and making the best of what little bits of his life he could control. 

By the time they reached Coruscant, Obi-Wan was less certain that Anakin couldn’t be prepared to become a Padawan in a few years. He was clearly unsuited for it at the moment, but he was also only nine. If he was allowed to join the ranks of the Initiates, he would have four years to attain the necessary skills to become a Padawan before aging out, and some Padawans remained in the Temple doing coursework through the beginning of their apprenticeships. It hadn’t been that way for Obi-Wan, but Qui-Gon was also a highly recognized negotiator who was often requested by name, as had been the case with this mission to Naboo. 

When they arrived, Obi-Wan kept a gentle but proprietary hand on Anakin’s thin shoulder despite that the boy strained after Padmé and the others. The Naboo delegation was greeted by Chancellor Valorum and their Senator, Palpatine. Obi-Wan exchanged a long last look with Quarsh, then gently chivvied Anakin towards the transport running to the Temple district. Once they were closer to the Temple, Obi-Wan thumbed his comm. It beeped a few times, but Bant picked up after a moment. 

“Hey, are you in Temple?” Obi-Wan asked by way of a greeting, and Bant narrowed her eyes at him. “Master Jinn and I are on our way in from a mission, but we made a friend and I was hoping you could meet us at the transport so he can get checked out while we report to the Council.” Bant huffed, but nodded. 

“I’ll meet your transport,” Bant promised. “You owe me one though.”

“Add it to my tab,” Obi-Wan teased, then signed off. He could feel a slight hint of disgruntlement from his Master, but over the course of their journey, Obi-Wan had more than once caught Anakin scratching at himself so savagely he nearly scored his skin. It had taken a little gentle pressure to learn that rather than collars, slaves on Tatooine were subjected to tracking implants that included explosive charges. Anakin had been trying desperately to find the chip since he was a boy of about five, and understood what it was. It would be a relief, Obi-Wan was certain, to have it cut out. Even without that complication, Anakin would need a full medical work up, as he was unlikely to have many if any of the immunizations that were all but standard among core worlders.

As promised, Bant was waiting at the public transport stop for the Temple, her pale blue robes slightly wrinkled. Like many who worked in the Halls of Healing, her sleeves were cropped to the elbow, and tailored closer to the arm so they wouldn’t get in her way. She pushed a burst of annoyed affection at Obi-Wan as they approached, and he grinned broadly in response. 

“Hey Bant,” Obi-Wan greeted. “This is Anakin Skywalker. Anakin, this is my friend Bant I told you about. I asked her to take you down to the Halls of Healing to get checked over, okay? She can run an imager over you and find the chip, then see about getting it taken out, and you’ll need your immunizations too, so you don’t get sick because of all our germs that you aren’t used to since this is your first time on Coruscant. I’ll come and see you after Master Qui-Gon and I give our report to the Council.” Anakin looked somewhat skeptically up at Bant for a long moment, then finally nodded. 

“I’ll have you checked out in a jiffy,” Bant promised, and offered her webbed hand. Anakin hesitated, and Obi-Wan gave him a gentle little push. “I’ll have you back to Obi-Wan soon,” Bant soothed, and finally Anakin conceded. Bant and Obi-Wan exchanged a look, but then Obi-Wan felt his Master tugging at their bond. Obi-Wan glanced back, then sighed and turned to follow. 

It was clear that Qui-Gon was still grumpy about the talking to Obi-Wan had given him on the matter of how Anakin had been freed. While Obi-Wan was happy for Anakin, the method of his emancipation still sat wrong with Obi-Wan, and so too did the separation of the boy from his mother. Qui-Gon hadn’t taken the scolding very well, being still a bit disgruntled that Obi-Wan had been in danger without his knowledge.

Soon enough they were standing before the High Council, sunlight streaming into the high-windowed chambers. Qui-Gon began their report, then prompted Obi-Wan to report on the time they were separated. Droids had already brought the stasis pod to the Temple, and the Healers and a few Shadows had begun taking care of the body. Between their initial report and Obi-Wan’s, there was little question that the Zabrak was a Darksider. When Obi-Wan said the word Sith though, it was like a bomb had been detonated. 

“Always two there are,” Yoda said calmly, his small voice cutting through the incomprehensible exhortations of the other Councilors. They fell silent at that, staring at the ancient being. “A Master, and an apprentice. Defeated by young Kenobi, which one was?” Obi-Wan fought the urge to grin. He’d always had a special fondness for the Grand Master of the Order, and flattered himself that Yoda was proud of him for defending their charges so ably. 

“The apprentice, I believe, Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan offered bravely. 

“Hmmm,” Yoda said simply. “Much yet there is to discover,” he said finally, and gestured for them to continue. 

“While on Tatooine, I encountered a vergence in the Force,” Qui-Gon said when they had been all but dismissed, and Obi-Wan sighed at the unfortunate wording. Anakin was a boy. A powerful boy, but only a boy nonetheless. Nevertheless, Obi-Wan bit his tongue. He’d given his Master enough grief for one mission. Obi-Wan crossed his arms, tucking his hands up into his sleeves as he kept silent while his Master argued with the Council. 

“Where is the boy then?” Master Windu finally demanded, and Qui-Gon actually turned to Obi-Wan and glared. Obi-Wan stiffened his spine and bowed slightly to the Councillors as their attention settled on him once more. 

“I thought it best to have him seen in the Halls of Healing Masters,” Obi-Wan said. “I doubt he has any innoculations, and there was also the matter of removing the explosive tracking chip with which he had been fitted by his former master,” Obi-Wan said mildly. He was not so bold as to reprimand the Council, but he had fine tuned his own particular methods of shaming Masters who ought to know better.

“The Chosen One is this boy, Padawan Kenobi?” Yoda asked, and Obi-Wan fought not to grimace. 

“Whether he is or not is irrelevant,” Obi-Wan said thoughtfully after a moment of careful contemplation. “He is strong in the Force, but he is an untrained child. To place expectations of greatness on him at this age would be unfair. If he is the Chosen One, the Force will work through him as fated. The Force does not require our belief in such prophecy to ensure its will comes to pass.” Yoda hummed softly and settled back with a slight air of smugness. Master Qui-Gon merely looked a bit annoyed, as if he’d reached for his tea and found the cup cold. 

“Wise you have become, mmm,” Yoda said, and Obi-Wan flushed slightly. 

“It was good of you to ensure the boy is healthy,” Master Windu said, as if the compliment were dragged out of him. Obi-Wan’s flush grew hotter; he felt that Master Windu wasn’t particularly annoyed with him, more the situation and the fact that Qui-Gon was again making life interesting for the Order. “When he is released, he will be tested.” Qui-Gon huffed at the declaration, but didn’t argue it. Obi-Wan was slightly surprised they had granted that much, given how obstinate Qui-Gon was being in his insistence that Anakin be trained. 

A few hours after they were dismissed by the Council, Bant messaged Obi-Wan that Anakin’s surgery was completed, informing him that the boy would be kept for a few more hours under observation, but would be free to go after that. Having completed his own post-mission tasks - sending his dirty clothing to the laundry and replenishing his medkit among other things - Obi-Wan brought his datapad down to the recovery rooms and sat with Anakin, telling him more about the Temple and what sorts of thing Initiates did. Bant stuck her head in occasionally, and was even cajoled into telling a few tales of her and Obi-Wan’s escapades as crechelings.

Just the idea of being able to explore the uses of the Force with other younglings seemed to appeal immensely to Anakin. Obi-Wan supposed he could understand that; his own years in the creche had been some of the happiest in his life, if only because ignorance of the problems of the galaxy was rather blissful. But he had formed strong friendships there too, that would hopefully be lifelong. He certainly couldn’t imagine a life without Bant and Siri and Garen and Reeft in it, even though he saw far less of them these days as they all had missions at far reaches of the Republic. For a boy who seemed to thrive on attachments like Anakin, it would hopefully be a safe place to form similar friendships.

Just before late-meal, Anakin was set loose by the Healers. Obi-Wan shepherded him up to the refectory, and got them meals before comming his Master and the Council to say Anakin had released but was eating. He imagined the Healers had already let the Councillors know, but it was better to be safe than sorry. The sheer variety of the food nearly stymied them as they stood in line, Anakin wanting to try everything, even things not digestible by humans. Obi-Wan carefully helped him narrow down his selections, then guided him to where a clan of younglings of approximately similar size ate.

The crechemaster welcomed them happily, as did the Padawans assisting them. Obi-Wan knew well from his own required rotations through the creche that extra hands and eyes were always appreciated. Anakin was unexpectedly shy at first, but then one of the other younglings asked Obi-Wan a question, and the floodgates opened. After a little while, Anakin was happily talking over and to the others, while Obi-Wan tried to eat and answer questions at the same time without speaking while he had food in his mouth. 

Eventually though, Obi-Wan and Anakin had to go up to the Council chambers, and the other younglings had their end of the day exercises to get them calmed down and prepared for bed. They parted ways at the refectory doors, and Obi-Wan led Anakin towards the turbolifts. Obi-Wan spent the long walk telling Anakin a bit about the Council and what to expect, urging the boy to be honest in any question he was asked. Anakin nodded along, his face falling into a serious little frown that was both utterly adorable and a bit heartbreaking. 

They barely sat in the waiting area before the doors hissed open to allow them in, and so Obi-Wan rose, and gently nudged Anakin forward. Qui-Gon was already within, and Obi-Wan could sense both his Master’s aggravation and Anakin’s quiet trepidation. Gently, Obi-Wan squeezed Anakin’s shoulder. Anakin glanced up, and Obi-Wan smiled encouragingly, then urged him forward into the center of the circular room.

“Anakin Skywalker,” Master Windu greeted, and Anakin gave an awkward little attempt at a bow. Obi-Wan thought Master Windu might have bit back a hint of a smile at that. 

“Yessir,” Anakin piped, and Yoda shifted slightly in his seat, peering more closely at Anakin. 

“Master Jinn has asked that you be tested for admission to the Jedi Order,” Master Windu said, and Anakin nodded. “Is that your desire?”

“M-” Qui-Gon started, and was cut off with a hard look from the Master of the Order. 

“He is old enough to know his mind,” Master Windu said. “It is his decision to be tested or not.”

“What would happen if I wasn’t tested?” Anakin asked curiously. 

“We would contact social services to arrange for your future comfort,” Master Plo Koon said gently. “They would find you a foster home, and hopefully, an adoptive family. You would go to school, and be looked after.”

“I - I wouldn’t be sent back to Tatooine?” Anakin asked, wanting to be doubly sure. 

“You are free,” Master Windu said firmly. “You would not be _sent_ anywhere.” He followed with another hard glare at Qui-Gon. Anakin nodded slowly, still not quite able to internalize that knowledge despite that Obi-Wan had told him the same things. 

“Can - can Obi-Wan stay with me?” Anakin asked more quietly.

“I’ll wait just outside Ani,” Obi-Wan promised. “But I know you’ll do your best, and that’s what matters okay?” he reassured, crouching to speak to Anakin face to face. Anakin nodded in that too serious way, and then threw his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck. “You’ll do fine,” Obi-Wan promised, hugging the boy and burying a thread of disappointment in his Master. It should be Qui-Gon reassuring Anakin, but instead it seemed his Master was too caught up in his bickering with the Council - too set on being _right_.

“I’ll return,” Qui-Gon said when the doors of the Council chamber closed behind them, and Obi-Wan simply nodded and settled in to wait, watching his Master’s broad back as it disappeared down the long hallway. With a sigh, Obi-Wan brought out his datapad and began to read again through the list of articles that had been found with the Darksider that attacked the royal Naboo yacht. 

More than once, doubt tried to creep into his mind. There was no way the Sith had survived. And yet when he reached into the Force, his certainty returned. Why now, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but wonder. Clearly there was some purpose behind the Siths return, something more than the assassination of Queen Amidala. What did they have to gain if Naboo was overtaken wholly by the Trade Federation? Sith desired power, glory, Obi-Wan remembered from his teachings. But Naboo was a relatively unimportant world, and until recently they had been incredibly isolationist. There had to be some other motive. 

Obi-Wan was still trying to determine the true reason for the Sith’s return when Qui-Gon strode back up an hour or so later. Shortly after his Master returned, the doors opened, and Obi-Wan followed Qui-Gon into the chamber. Anakin stood in the center of the room, but the uncertainty seemed to have left him. Obi-Wan went to his side, touching his shoulder lightly in unspoken question. Anakin looked up, and smiled broadly. Obi-Wan’s quiet worry faded at that. 

“Anakin Skywalker will not be trained to become a Jedi Knight,” Master Windu said, and Obi-Wan felt his Master instantly mantle in preparation for a fight. Obi-Wan quashed a sigh, and ignored him for the moment, looking down at Anakin. The boy’s happiness and confidence hadn’t faded though, so Obi-Wan set the last of his worry aside. 

“He is the Chosen One!” Qui-Gon practically barked. Obi-Wan bristled at that, laying his hand on Anakin’s shoulder and pulling him a little closer. Such expectations didn’t bode well for anyone. “He needs to be trained a Jedi and if you will not see to it, I shall train him myself,” he declared.

“An apprentice you already have, Qui-Gon Jinn,” Yoda said quellingly, looking to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan, for his part, tried not to take the hurt to heart. He knew how single-minded his master got when he was arguing with the Council. Right now Qui-Gon’s only concern was ensuring Anakin got the training Qui-Gon believed the boy deserved.

“He’s competent, ready for his trials,” Qui-Gon said almost dismissively, and that - that was harder to hear. Obi-Wan had hoped for a better recommendation than mere competency when the time came for him to face his trials. He knew he had plenty more to learn - knew it well. Master Qui-Gon had never even suggested that he thought Obi-Wan was prepared for Knighthood, despite that Obi-Wan had taken on more responsibilities in their missions over the years, and even had a few solo missions.

“Ready for his - are you kriffing kidding me Qui-Gon?” Mace demanded in a tone he usually reserved for when they were alone and he wasn’t trying to preserve his reputation as a respectable Master of the Order. “Obi-Wan’s been ready for his trials for years. Years! And you’ve been blind as a stunned bantha about picking up the hints we’ve all but clubbed you upside the head with. Even if he hadn’t been, he’s more than proved today in his care for Skywalker he’s ready to be Knighted. So yes, we’ll send him to his trials, but don’t think it’s as a favour to you, Qui-Gon,” Mace said, actually standing from his chair so he could properly loom over his friend.

“Master Mace,” Obi-Wan said, hand gentle on Anakin’s shoulder, and the Korun master huffed and settled back in his seat, grimacing slightly because as mad as he was, he didn’t intend to scare the boy. 

“I’ve never heard so much nonsense before and I’ve known you my whole life Jinn, so that’s saying something,” Mace grumbled. “Have you even asked Skywalker what _he_ wanted?” Qui-Gon blinked at that, mouth opening then closing again as he looked down at Anakin who was looking up at him as if uncertain what Qui-Gon would do next. As if Qui-Gon were something potentially dangerous himself. The fight left him at that, and Qui-Gon’s shoulders sagged. 

“What is it you want to do Anakin?” Qui-Gon asked. Anakin shuffled his feet uncomfortably, turning to look up at Obi-Wan for reassurance. Obi-Wan smiled softly, squeezing his shoulder. 

“I - I thought maybe I could stay with the other kids and learn more Basic and Aurebesh and stuff,” Anakin said with a shrug. “Obi-Wan was telling me about Knight-Pilots and the ExplorCorps and - it sounded pretty wizard. They go and visit all the stars, just like I always dreamed of. I - I know it would be hard work. But I’m really good at fixing things, I like doing that. Your laser sword is pretty wizard, but Obi-Wan said that Jedi in the ExplorCorps have them too. And - and maybe if I stayed with the kids Obi-Wan could come visit me sometimes,” he finished hopefully, looking up at the young Jedi hopefully. 

“I would be happy to come visit you Anakin,” Obi-Wan reassured quietly. He looked up at the Council. “If I may Masters?” Mace nodded, silent permission granted for the Padawan to speak. “Anakin already has solid attachments. The life of a Jedi in the Service Corps isn’t as strict as that of a Padawan, or a Knight, or a Master of the Knight Corps. Better he learn to manage his emotions and the attachments he has, rather than try and sever bonds already formed.” Yoda let out a small chuckle at that, and Mace felt his own mouth quirk into a half smile. Attachments had always been Kenobi’s weakness, of course he would see a way to help the boy that was actually doable. 

“A good solution, young Kenobi,” Yoda said approvingly. “Much to discuss we will have Master Jinn, when return you do.”

“Return?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Return to Naboo, Queen Amidala will. Remain here, will young Kenobi, to begin his meditations. A new partner we will send with you,” Yoda directed. He pressed a control on his seat, and the door opened, allowing in the Master who had been waiting outside. Obi-Wan bowed as a tall, silver haired Master in dark robes entered. His long face was vaguely familiar, but Obi-Wan couldn’t quite place him. 

“Master,” Qui-Gon grit out as politely as he was able. 

“Padawan,” Master Dooku returned smoothly, identifying himself to Obi-Wan by that manner of address. “Grand-padawan,” he greeted Obi-Wan.

“Master Dooku,” Obi-Wan greeted. 

“A mission for you, we have,” Yoda said when that had been taken care of. 

“As you will, my Master,” Dooku said with a slight quirk of his lips. 

“Padawan Kenobi, you’re free to go,” Master Windu said gently. “Please assist Initiate Skywalker in finding the creche, they will be expecting him. The Hall will be open to you tonight for meditations.” Obi-Wan bowed deeply at that, and gently herded Anakin from the room. His mind was roiling, and a night spent in meditation seemed like a very good idea.


	4. an early end

“Do not disappoint me further, apprentice,” the low voice of Darth Plagueis urged, and then the encrypted connection closed, leaving Darth Sidious sitting and stewing in rage and hatred. This was supposed to be his victory, his time to take center stage. Time for the Sith to step out of the shadows once more. 

And yet. 

Sidious hissed quietly, the only verbalization of his rage. Kenobi, his spies had already returned. A Padawan. And not even a promising Padawan, but one chosen only as he aged out and trained by the maverick Qui-Gon Jinn; one who had been put on probation, who had nearly left the Order more than once. A nobody he would never have deigned to notice in other circumstances. 

Jinn would be easy enough to dispatch; he and Master Dooku were being sent as Amidala’s bodyguards on her return to Naboo. And he - he would meet them there. Before he left though, he would arrange a little something for Kenobi. The boy was being pushed to Knighthood, and would be meditating alone through the night. It would be a small matter to ensure his preparations for the trials were - explosive. Encoding an encrypted frequency, Sidious soon had a highly trained operative on the line.

“I have some work for you,” Sidious said without bothering with a greeting. 

“Go ahead,” Aurra Sing purred, and Sidious detailed his desires. “That’ll cost you,” the bounty hunter warned, and Sidious merely stared until she lost her composure and named a rate Sidious knew was far lower than such a job would usually run. 

“You’ll see the other half when the job is done,” Sidious said, and wired her the upfront fee for her services. Using such rabble was a last resort, and not something he’d had to arrange for years. Maul had negated any need to farm out jobs like this. But Kenobi had managed to cut Maul down. He would have to find another apprentice. And determine a new plan for eliminating his Master as well. Rising, Sidious shrugged out of his cloak and masked himself once more in the genial persona of Sheev Palpatine, Senator of Naboo.

With grandfatherly charm, Palpatine spoke to those he needed to speak to, planted certain ideas in certain ears, and ensured that his yacht would be prepared within the hour. It was always kept at ready, but certain things needed to be arranged on the moment of departure. He closed off a few avenues of action that would unfortunate to leave open, secured a bag with the necessities, and was soon boarding his J-Type Nubian Diplomatic Barge. The powerful engines would see him quickly to Theed, although hopefully not so quickly that he arrived before the Jedi. He wanted to fall upon them from behind, taking them unawares.

Palpatine’s well compensated crew soon had the ship underway, and he retired to his suite, condensing his hate and anger so it could be called forth as power when necessary. As they travelled, he reviewed what he knew of his opponents. Both Jinn and Dooku were highly regarded swordsmen, but Dooku, Sidious thought, was the more dangerous of the pair. While older, he was still strong and fast, and his chosen form of Makashi was designed for duelling. Jinn was able - more than able, but his chosen form of Ataru would tire him quickly, the acrobatic style designed to overpower an opponent rapidly. Ataru too was weak on defense. Sidious sneered. He despised ‘saber fighting. 

When Sidious dropped out of hyperspace, N-1 starfighters from the Royal Naboo Security Forces were breaking themselves against the shields of the Trade Federation’s droid control ship. The Jedi would already be on the surface then, and likely in Theed. The Trade Federation ship let the diplomatic yacht through as soon as it read their IDC, and even dispatched a swarm of fighters to fly escort. Such was unnecessary, but it did amuse Sidious just a little. 

As the ship settled, Sidious rose, keying a few last commands into a nearby terminal. He drew up his hood, and let his shielding dissipate, grinning ferally as he felt the Jedi startle as they realized what they were feeling. Striding from the barge, Sidious heard the ramp hiss closed behind him. The ship lifted off, on course for an unavoidable collision with Naboo’s sun. No one and nothing aboard would ever reveal his secrets. 

Walking with purpose, Sidious entered the expansive palace complex. Many rulers had made many additions over the years, and he doubted even the security forces knew all the secret ways riddled through the structure. During the reigns of many previous monarchs though, Sidious had learned the ins and outs and twisting labyrinthine passageways that wound between the walls. The chosen battleground on which his cudgel was supposed to hammer the Jedi was the powerplant, and it was there Sidious headed, the depth of his power an enticing lure for too curious Jedi.

It didn’t take long for his prey to arrive. Rather to his surprise though, only one Jedi appeared. Dooku. Sidious snarled silently in annoyance, not permitting the Jedi the respect of true fear. He feared only his Master and powerlessness. This Jedi was only one more trial on his path to greatness. Besides, Dooku was once Jinn’s Master. Slaughtering the old man would only hurry Jinn to his demise. A broad, vulpine smile broke across Sidious face, and he ignited one of his lightsabers, holding the second in reserve for the moment. 

Dooku drew in a sharp breath at the sight of the glowing red blade. He had no time for further contemplation though, and dropped back in defense as the smaller, slighter form of his opponent seemed to fly at him. _Force enhanced speed_ Dooku realized almost immediately, the same methodology Yoda used. There was nothing else familiar in the combat style, save that it utilized a lightsaber. 

The blade, although it made for a very attention grabbing distraction, was not the Sith’s only weapon. Dooku drove the enemy back time and again, only to be thwarted by lightning quick evasions of his rapid strikes. For a moment, Dooku thought he had the Sith pinned - for this being could be nothing _but_ Sith, with such sheer malevolence shrouding their presence - but the Sith not only evaded, they raised their hand and threw lightning with an ease that spoke of long practice and dauntless confidence. Dooku dodged awkwardly, and nearly lost his head while he tried to process what he had just witnessed. Force Lightning. _Sith_ Lightning. A shiver ran through Dooku, and he pressed his attack with renewed vigour. 

Sidious bared his teeth, not so much defending himself as constantly counterattacking. With the strength of the Dark side running through him, he was all but unstoppable. Lightsaber combat, at least, was one skill in which he’d long surpassed his master. Face a rictus of vicious pleasure, Sidious cackled in glee, seeing an opening. He lunged, gasping and choking when instead of skewering Dooku, a verdant beam of energy burst from his chest. Jinn. He’d got caught up in the thrill of dueling Dooku and forgotten to track the whereabouts of Jinn.

With a final gurgle, Sidious died, his body imploding a moment after he drew his last breath. His malignant spirit clung a few heartbeats longer, but even that soon dispersed. His experiments seeking immortality were far too incomplete to hold his spirit to the mortal plane. Worlds away, Plagueis felt his apprentice’s demise, and quietly went about arranging things so it would appear Senator Palpatine disappeared under mysterious circumstances that left lingering concerns about how far the Trade Federation was willing to go for a profit.

He would have to train a new apprentice, Plagueis surmised with no small amount of dismay. Sidious had been a chance find, and an apt pupil, although one with aspirations far above his station. Still, Plagueis had plenty of time, he reasoned. He was confident he was on the cusp of a breakthrough in his quest for life eternal. That - that was true power. And once he was immortal - invulnerable - well, he would have time to train an apprentice and consolidate his Empire at his leisure.

Back on Naboo, Qui-Gon Jinn toed at the smoking remnants of a black cowl with a moue of disgust. He'd never felt anything more foul than the presence of the being they had slain. The Zabrak Obi-Wan had defeated on Tatooine had felt wrong in an intrinsic way, but their Darkness had been mere midday shadows in comparison to the being they had faced here. Sith. It still made Qui-Gon shiver, despite that the danger was passed.

Even as he thought that though, he noted that his former Master was still on all but full alert. Dooku might see that the danger before them was defeated, but he clearly anticipated that their mission might yet be in peril. Qui-Gon turned, looking to Dooku with an eyebrow raised in question. Dooku made a soft noise that might have been amusement, but finally powered down his ‘saber.

“Our business is not yet finished,” Dooku said darkly. 

“Yes - yes,” Qui-Gon murmured. The Queen. Their job was to protect the Queen. Dooku turned, and Qui-Gon realized his Master hadn’t even bothered removing his robes as they flared dramatically around his tense, straight form. Qui-Gon shook his head slightly at the evidence of his Master’s enduring vanity and arrogance, then followed him from the power station. Dooku, Qui-Gon was certain, would never change. The only alteration the years had made were to leech the colour from his once-dark hair (Dooku blamed this solely on Qui-Gon) and increase his willingness to argue with the Council (this too, Dooku blamed entirely on his former Padawan).

In her throne room, Queen Amidala awaited the two Jedi who had been sent to protect her. They had alerted like wary akk dogs partway through the battle, and Master Jinn had explained that another Darksider - a being strong in the more selfish aspects of Force use - was nearby, that this was probably related to the being who had attacked the royal yacht while they were on Tatooine. Well aware that Jedi Kenobi had been injured in his duel, Padme could only retain her hold on her Neimoidian hostages and hope that Masters Jinn and Dooku were as skilled with their lightsabers as their younger counterpart. 

“If it was the Sith you were waiting on to surrender, he has been dispatched,” Qui-Gon declared as he strode into the throne room. There was no evidence on him of the fight, nor of his Force-enhanced sprint to reach the reactor rooms. Dooku, if one looked closely, bore more marks of the duel, fitting perhaps, since he had borne the brunt of the encounter. His dark garb though, well disguised the singes of the Sith’s near misses. 

Behind Qui-Gon, Dooku fought the urge to roll his eyes. Tact had never been Qui-Gon’s strong suit. He was a skilled mediator it was true, but more through a charming bluntness than subtle wordplay. And at the moment, Qui-Gon wasn’t feeling particularly like charming the Trade Federation. They had embargoed and invaded a peaceful world, and there was every indication they were working either with or for the Sith. No. Qui-Gon didn’t much feel like being charming. Blunt though - blunt felt about right. 

“It is only a matter of time now, before your droid army is so much scrap metal,” Qui-Gon promised as much as threatened. “Better you save the time and surrender now.” The Neimoidians shifted nervously, looking to one another, none wanting to make that decision and be responsible for this matter. 

“For all his lack of subtlety, Master Jinn is correct,” Dooku said in his rich, low voice. “If the Sith was your Master, they can no longer command you. If the Sith was your weapon, you are disarmed. Even if the Sith was only your ally, your strength is diminished by their defeat. It would be wiser to come to terms with the Naboo than incur yet larger toll for which you will owe remuneration.” 

Perhaps it was the more precise statement of their situation. Perhaps they simply had more time to contemplate how truly kriffed they were. But the Neimoidians crumbled like a spun sugar confection on a hot summer’s day, and the Jedi were soon overseeing the complete surrender of the Trade Federation. Dooku was as strict and demanding with the terms as he reasonably could be, with the backing of both Queen Amidala and Qui-Gon. In truth, either of them might have abandoned any attempts at reason and tried for a more punitive agreement, but Dooku knew that as nice as it would be to utterly destroy the Trade Federation, they had too many powerful friends for such terms to hold up to scrutiny.

Understanding that despite their strength of arms, they were defeated, the Viceroy ordered their droid army to stand down. It was clear that the Neimoidians were dismayed by their defeat, affirming Qui-Gon’s longstanding opinions on them. They were cowards and flunkies, and would not have moved against Naboo without some sort of assurance that they would be protected in the aftermath. How long, he wondered, had they been the toadies of the Sith? As far back as the Hyperspace Conflict? Earlier? What else had the Sith managed to work their fingers into? A shiver crept up Qui-Gon’s back at the thought. 

A few days later, the Jedi High Council - and new Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi - arrived in Theed. They brought with them the new Chancellor of the Republic, Bail Antilles, a Prince of Alderaan who like many of his class did his best to marry the privilege of his birth with service to his people. Upon being elected as Chancellor, Antilles had lived up to his reputation as a staunch opponent of corruption, and called for Republic wide elections, with Senators to be elected to two and four year terms. 

Antilles had also called for the Trade Federation to be cut back to its original purpose - mediating trade disputes and negotiating contracts between various shipping enterprises. No few of the other corporate sector guilds were crying outrage at the command, but public opinion was strongly against the corporations after their bungled blockade and suspected involvement with the disappearance of Naboo’s Senator Palpatine. 

The Council and Chancellor arrived on a diplomatic cruiser. A Republic Navy vessel had escorted them, and took up position in orbit, taking custody of the Neimoidians in the Droid Control Ship, and impounding their inventory. Given Antilles’ historical antipathy toward the Trade Federation, it was unlikely they would be able to escape punishment, even if the new Chancellor’s demands regarding the reformation of the Trade Formation as an entity went unmet. 

Qui-Gon couldn’t help but be a bit perversely pleased at the outcome. He was a little more confused when it came to his former Padawan though. Things were strained between them, and Qui-Gon acknowledged that was his fault. He hadn’t been at his best that day before the Council when he claimed Anakin as his over Obi-Wan, but he knew Obi-Wan knew how worked up Qui-Gon got when he was arguing with those old sticks in the mud. Surely his Padawan - _former_ Padawan, a whisper in his mind provided - understood that he had merely been ensuring a vulnerable boy would be protected? 

Anakin was the Chosen One, he deserved to be trained as a Knight, given the skills he would need to face his destiny. That Anakin himself thought exploring more interesting - surely that was just childish dreams? Even at their first meeting Anakin had wanted to be a Jedi - a Knight. 

It was as a Knight after all, that Anakin could help the most people; a reality, Qui-Gon was sure, that no one had presented to the boy. Anakin had delighted in helping them on Tatooine, had insisted upon helping them. Who would he be helping in the ExplorCorps? Researchers? Future colonists? No, that wasn’t the place for a boy like Anakin, no more than the AgriCorps had been the place for Obi-Wan. 

His thoughts having been lead back to his Padawan - former Padawan, Qui-Gon reminded himself - he set out to find the newly made Knight. The fact that Obi-Wan had been Trialed, Knighted, and had his braid severed without Qui-Gon present itched at the Master Jedi. They had overcome so much through the years of their partnership. That Obi-Wan had undergone such an important rite of passage without his Master at his side sat wrong with Qui-Gon. And yet. Obi-Wan _did_ have cause to put distance between them, Qui-Gon's conscience reminded. 

“Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon called, knocking at the door behind which he felt Obi-Wan’s familiar if well shielded presence. The door swung opened, and to Qui-Gon’s surprise, the Naboo Security Chief, Panaka stepped out, leaving the door open as he strode off fidgeting slightly with the arrangement of his leather jerkin. Brow furrowed, Qui-Gon entered. 

Obi-Wan sat on the sofa within, robes perfectly arrayed, but lips suspiciously swollen and cheeks slightly flushed. Ah. It was like that then. Qui-Gon buttoned his lip, not wanting to embarrass his headstrong former Padawan. Obi-Wan had seen himself through the perils of possible attachment before, and he was a Knight now. 

“Congratulations, Knight Kenobi,” Qui-Gon greeted warmly, hoping to set a friendly tone. Despite his own Master’s chiding, he _did_ know how to be subtle when there was need. 

“Master,” Obi-Wan greeted demurely. “Thank you for your tutelage over the years. It has been a pleasure learning from you.” While the words were sincere, Qui-Gon could feel they had been rehearsed repeatedly, carefully chosen. Such diplomacy was in Obi-Wan’s training, but Qui-Gon couldn’t help but feel a thread of hurt at being handled so, spoken to as if he were a hostile or politician, rather than Obi-Wan’s Master. 

“As it has been a pleasure teaching you,” Qui-Gon said almost by rote. “Have you been given a first mission?” he asked, settling himself without invitation in a plush armchair. 

“The Council has given me the privilege of a year’s sabbatical mission,” Obi-Wan said with quiet dignity, clearly understanding the honour of such a task. Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows. Such missions were increasingly rare with the Jedi stretched so thin the last few years, although they had once been commonplace. The new Knight was outfitted with a small ship and some credits, and given leave to go where the Force took them for a Standard year, after which they were expected to return to Coruscant and make an accounting of their actions. 

It was somewhat of a trial by fire, and demonstrated that the Council was placing a great deal of trust in Obi-Wan. In more recent times, new Knights were usually given a flurry of low importance missions, more to keep them out of the Temple and force them into becoming independent operators than anything. Qui-Gon supposed the Council had no qualms in assuming that Obi-Wan was already independent natured. 

Had he not proved that though, Qui-Gon supposed, in their last briefing? Obi-Wan had contradicted him with purpose and grace, and subsequently passed his trials for Knighthood. Regret welled up in Qui-Gon at that. Mace had been right - Obi-Wan was ready for his trials years ago, and Qui-Gon - Qui-Gon had let his own fears reign, and not nominated an able Padawan for his rightful trials. The Force, it seemed, had intervened, and the Council had expressed their commendation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration for this chapter includes a couple fics and posts from tumblr I’m very ashamed I’m not able to find at the moment for the year long Force-led mission for new Knights.


	5. the beginning

Anakin thrummed with excitement, and it seemed his anticipation was echoed by the entire Temple - the entire _Order_. Obi-Wan was coming home today. At first, Anakin had been quite put out that his only friend was being sent away for a whole year. 

Obi-Wan had commed frequently though, had told Anakin about all the places he was visiting. He had even gone to Tatooine, and let Anakin’s mom use his comm. Evidently one of Obi-Wan’s old friends from the creche, Knight Vos, had been on Tatooine on a prolonged mission, already there before Obi-Wan arrived with Padmé and the Queen, and remaining there for some time afterwards. 

Being in regular contact with not only a Knight, but the famed ‘Sith-Killer’ had given Anakin a valuable trade item in the creche: stories. While Anakin had been incredibly behind in his studies at first, Obi-Wan had always been gentle and supportive when they spoke, bolstering Anakin’s flagging confidence and reminding him that he was behind because he was only just starting, and he couldn’t expect to master in months what had taken the other younglings years of practice. 

It was humbling for Anakin, who had always been one of the most clever people he knew. His mother had always praised his intelligence, and he was well aware that his level of mechanical skill was uncommon - he had been passed into a number of advanced classes as a result, despite that when it came to grammar and etiquette and a number of other skills, he was in remedial lessons. 

Obi-Wan though, had told tales of his own days in lessons, his struggles with astronav and other difficult courses, failed tests and low scoring assignments. The fact that Obi-Wan, so kind and all a Jedi ought to be in Anakin’s opinion, had had his own struggles with his coursework had given Anakin encouragement that he could accomplish all he wished. 

Now, Obi-Wan was finally returning from his year long mission. While holo communiques had been a wonderful treat, Anakin was sure that having Obi-Wan back in the Temple would be even better. Obi-Wan would have further missions of course, Anakin understood that the older Jedi would be sent off to help people in other places. But hopefully not for as long, and they would get to see one another in person more frequently.

While the homecoming of a new Knight was a regular occurrence, Obi-Wan was something of a celebrity in the Temple. It had been years since the Council had assigned a Force-led year’s mission. It was even less common for a newly risen Knight to have a reputation like Obi-Wan’s. 

Partly, of course, Obi-Wan was well known because Master Jinn was well known, because Master Dooku and Master Yoda were well known. He was the culmination of a famed Lineage. But he was also well known because the night he had spent in meditation prior to trialing for his Knighthood, he had foiled an attack on the Temple and helped capture the deadly bounty hunter Aurra Sing, a notorious Jedi-killer. 

Anakin, it seemed, wasn’t the only one who thought Obi-Wan exemplified all a Jedi ought. As a result, it seemed half the Temple was crammed into the most used corridors between the Temple hangars and the residential wing that housed solitary Knights. Anakin - and his entire clan - had scored a spot right at the front. 

The Jedi in general had allowed the younger and smaller members of the Order primacy of place, only Masters of the High Council arrayed in front of them. It was a quiet sort of acknowledgement of the importance of the younglings; Anakin had heard many times since coming to the Temple that the younglings were the future of the Order. The value the older Jedi placed on education and training daily proved their commitment to that future, if not always in ways Anakin immediately understood or appreciated. 

Finally, when it seemed like they’d been waiting hours, the soft hum of a well tended engine crescendoed over the usual noise of the Coruscant traffic. The small freighter that Obi-Wan had chosen for his mission eased carefully into the hanger and settled, steam hissing from the vents as the engine ticked over and began powering down. Anticipation skyrocketed as the ramp lowered, and then Obi-Wan was striding off the freighter, eyes wide in surprise, hair scruffy as it grew out from the traditional Padawan cut, and clothing worn almost threadbare in places.

“Masters,” Obi-Wan greeted the Councillors with a polite bow, then half turned. Like everyone else in attendance, Obi-Wan had taken Anakin’s full attention, and only when Obi-Wan looked back to the ship did Anakin realize someone else had disembarked. Mom. _Mom_. Anakin choked down a sob, realizing then why Obi-Wan had told Anakin so exactly when to expect his arrival. _Mom_. 

Having seen Obi-Wan, much of the crowd had already begun to disperse, gossiping as they went back about their business. Anakin’s clan leader squeezed his shoulder gently, then pushed him toward Obi-Wan. Anakin took a hesitant step, then another, then broke into an all out sprint, pelting across the hangar to throw himself into his mother’s arms. 

“Oh, Ani,” Shmi breathed, hugging her son tightly. 

“Mom,” Anakin choked out, and dissolved into sobs. A warm, broad hand settled on Anakin’s head, and with it came the familiar sense of Obi-Wan himself, light and warmth and kindness together, with a fierce intelligence and obdurate stubbornness beneath. A gentle wave of calmness emanated from Obi-Wan’s hand, a touch-calming technique that Anakin’s clan leader and creche master also used to help their young charges balance their emotions. 

“I’m so happy to see you sweetheart,” Shmi murmured tearfully. “It was so good to talk to you on the comm, but I - I’m just so happy to see you,” she said. 

“Me too Mom,” Anakin managed to get out. The three of them remained there on the hangar deck until Anakin managed to make his arms unwind from his mother’s shoulders. Immediately, he threw himself at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan let out a rushed breath of surprise, then stood, carrying Anakin up in his arms. It was a much more difficult lift than it had been but a year earlier, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but be pleased by Anakin’s increased mass.

“Come on Ani, let’s get you and your mom settled,” Obi-Wan murmured. “The Masters said that the Quartermaster already has rooms picked out for her.”

“She - she’s staying?” Anakin choked out hopefully. 

“As long as she wants,” Obi-Wan promised. 

“Obi-Wan’s arranged it so I’ll be working here,” Shmi said with a teary smile. 

“I-” Anakin managed to get out, and then went completely non-verbal in surprise and joy. He hugged Obi-Wan even tighter though, all but broadcasting his pleasure in the Force.

“Oh little one,” Obi-Wan murmured, rubbing Anakin’s back and steadfastly quashing the anger and sadness that roiled inside him. “Come on, let’s find her new home, and I’ll tell you all about it,” he urged. Anakin nodded, snuggling deeper into Obi-Wan’s warmth. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile, and he turned that smile on Shmi, raising his eyebrows in question. Shmi smiled softly and shook her head, then silently nodded for Obi-Wan to lead the way. 

Obi-Wan pulled up the Temple map on his datapad and found Shmi’s assigned quarters, then handed her the pad and started off. Shmi glanced at the labyrinthine map and grimaced, but followed. Hopefully she would be able to get access to a map shortly, or she would be very lost for a very long time. Soon they were deep in the Temple, and Shmi was torn between making sure she didn’t lose Obi-Wan and looking at everything. 

Even in little used corridors, the ceilings soared overhead, and the walls were lined with murals and mosaics and tapestries and alcoves sheltering busts and statuary and decorative water features, doors opening into expansive gardens. Finally they turned down a quiet hallway with swirling mosaics on the walls. The viewports had been covered with blue and green coloured glass, and it made the whole place feel as if it were under water. It was lovely, Shmi thought, more beautiful than any place she ever would have dreamed of living. 

Obi-Wan pressed his hand to the scanner next to the door, then tapped in a few commands before waving Shmi forward to do the same. Somewhat nervously, Shmi allowed her hand to be scanned, and the door quietly _whoosh_ ed open. 

Within was a beautiful if somewhat bare apartment twice or thrice the size of the home she had shared with Anakin on Tatooine. There was a low sofa in the main room, and a holotable with a cover so it could be used as a regular table, a dining area and through an open doorway, a kitchen. Other doors opened off the main room, presumably leading to the sleeping area and ‘fresher.

“The Quartermaster’s message said that they had a droid deliver your kit,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “There should be a ‘pad with the necessary information, and I requested a Huttese interface for you, and clothing and the like. A small portion of your salary will be withheld for goods requested from the Quartermaster and rent, but you’ll still be paid a fair wage for the work you do.”

“What’re you going to do Mom?” Anakin asked, finally unearthing himself from Obi-Wan’s hold. Obi-Wan set the boy down, and Anakin was instantly burrowing back into his mother. 

“They gave me a few different choices, but I decided to help Madame Nu in the archives,” Shmi said. “Organizing things mostly, I think I’ll like that.” 

“And I - I can come visit you?” Anakin pressed hopefully. 

“You can,” Obi-Wan assured when Shmi looked at him, Anakin’s gaze following hers. “Some people will make a fuss about it I’m sure, but this was the right thing to do.” Anakin smiled widely at that. Obi-Wan, he had discovered early on, was very into doing the right thing, helping people whenever he could. 

Anakin thought it only made him a better Jedi, although he knew there had been times when Obi-Wan got in trouble for helping, like when he fought in the war on Melida / Daan. But Melida / Daan was at peace now, so Anakin didn’t see how that wasn’t a good thing, although he kept that opinion mostly to himself. 

“How long are you staying?” Anakin asked hopefully, and Obi-Wan smiled and ruffled his hair. 

“I’m not entirely sure,” Obi-Wan admitted. “I have to give my report to the Council, and I’m probably due an appointment in medical since I’ve been gone so long, and they were very cautious about letting me go in the first place so shortly after the bombing.”

“Bombing?” Shmi asked weakly, and Obi-Wan grimaced. 

“Not long after we brought Anakin here, the Temple was attacked,” Obi-Wan said. “A bounty hunter named Aurra Sing tried to bomb the Temple Spire - the central tower on the top of the ziggurat,” he explained. “She attacked the night I was meditating in the Temple Spire in preparation for my Trials to become a Knight. I sensed the danger approaching while I was in my meditations, and was able to notify the Sentinels. 

“They captured her, and she accused Senator Palpatine of hiring her to assassinate me. The money trail corroborates her story, but nothing else about it makes sense, and from what I hear, Palpatine disappeared that same day, and it looks like he’d been targeted by the Trade Federation, the group that was attacking Naboo,” Obi-Wan explained, then quirked a wry smile. “I had a rather eventful Knighting all told.” 

“I’ll say,” Shmi said, raising her eyebrows. “And has this sort of thing happened before?” Obi-Wan dropped his eyes, scrubbing his hand roughly through his shaggy hair. “It has?!” Shmi practically squeaked. 

“Twice in my lifetime,” Obi-Wan admitted. “Not long after I returned to the Temple from the fighting on Melida / Daan, Qui-Gon’s former Padawan arranged a bombing, and there was a bombing here during the Yinchorri Uprising a few years ago,” he said. 

“Goodness,” Shmi murmured. 

“No one died in any of the bombings?” Obi-Wan tried to comfort her. “Two Sentinels were killed defending the temple against the Yinchorri, but that was in the hand to hand fighting, not the bombing.” 

“You’re not helping,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan laughed softly. 

“No, I suppose I’m not,” Obi-Wan admitted. “As I said before, being a Jedi isn’t a terribly safe occupation.”

“No, it doesn’t seem so,” Shmi agreed weakly. It made sense of course. Jedi were the ones always going into dangerous situations to help others. 

“If you feel unsafe here,” Obi-Wan began, and Shmi waved him off. 

“I would walk through the Wastes at double-noon to be know Anakin safe and cared for,” Shmi said firmly, and Obi-Wan dipped his head in acknowledgement. They talked a while longer, and Anakin downloaded his mother’s new address so he could find his way back. Before late-meal, Anakin hustled down to his dormitory, and packed up his things. He’d received a message giving him dispensation to stay with his mom for a few days while she settled in. 

After about a week, Anakin returned to the dorms and his classes, although he visited Shmi often, both in her apartment and in the Archives. She got on well with Master Nu, who was in charge of the Archives, and made friends with some of the other workers in the EduCorps who were the majority of the staff there. Their easy acceptance of Shmi made Anakin consider more seriously the thought of going into the EduCorps, rather than the ExplorCorps as he had at first thought he would. 

Over the years, Anakin waffled between career hopes. Exploring the galaxy still sounded like a tremendous amount of fun. And there was a section of ExplorCorps based out of the Coruscant Temple, mainly tasked with ferrying about members of the EduCorps who excavated and studied historic sites. But if he was in EduCorps, he could still go exploring, but also be in the same section as his mother. He knew she would support him no matter which path he took, but still he hesitated in making his decision. 

Obi-Wan had become something like an older brother over the years, a trusted friend who would willingly sit with Anakin and help with his homework, or listen to him go on about the newest speeder, or counsel him over his potential career paths. As the time to his thirteenth birthday - the time Anakin had left among the Initiates - grew shorter and shorter, Anakin took that into consideration too. The greater time he would potentially spend in the Temple as a member of EduCorps meant he would likely see Obi-Wan more often too, and the other friends he’d made who had or would become Padawans. 

“You’re somber,” Obi-Wan noted one day as they sat, rehydrating after sparring in one of the gymnasiums. Anakin grimaced slightly.

“I haven’t decided yet which Corps I want to go into,” Anakin admitted. “I don’t really want to leave mom. Or you, or my friends. I know - I know it’s attachment, but I - I’m just going to really miss you is all.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan said, and fussed uncharacteristically with his lightsaber hilt. 

“What?” Anakin asked. 

“Ah - well, I’ve been meaning to ask - well - that is to say - I know you’ve planned on going into the Corps but - would you be willing to consider training toward Knighthood? That is - I would be most appreciative Anakin, if you’d do me the great honour of being my Padawan? I - I know it’s unexpected, and if you want time to think -” Obi-Wan fumbled out, all his characteristic eloquence failing him. 

“I - really?” Anakin asked, eyes wide as he looked up at Obi-Wan. 

“Really,” Obi-Wan said with a slight smile. “I’ve already spoken to your mother and the Council, the final decision is yours. You’ve come so far Anakin, and I would understand if you preferred to go into the Corps, I know you love flying and exploring, and the life of a Knight is often full of politicians and tedious diplomacy. It is your choice, but I want you to know the full spectrum of what is available. And if you’re willing, I will do my utmost to help you become the magnificent man and Jedi I know you can be.”

“I - I’ll think about it,” Anakin choked out, and threw himself at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan accepted the enthusiastic embrace with a huff, smiling softly as he held Anakin. That night Anakin talked him in and out of each of the Corps and Knighthood in turn. Finally, in the early hours of morning, he managed to meditate on the matter while practicing some of the hand-to-hand exercises all Initiates learned. 

Being a Jedi in any capacity still seemed somewhat like a delirious fever dream, something cooked up under the too hot suns of Tatooine. And yet the Force sang to Anakin as it always had. Jedi. He was and would be a Jedi, but he still had to choose the path he would follow. The newness of the idea of training under Obi-Wan and becoming a Knight made it attractive. But Anakin had also been in the Temple long enough to understand that while they might want to help, the Knights were sent at the discretion of the Senate, and politicians were not always welcoming of outside interference. 

The EduCorps and ExplorCorps were also dependant on the will of the Senate, but their missions were also more distinct and discrete. The old dream welled up in his mind. Maybe it would take him his whole life, but he still wanted to see every burning bright star up close, to visit every known world, and then start on the unknowns. When morning came, Anakin found Obi-Wan in one of the gardens, feeding a little reptavian by hand. 

“If - if I’m not your Padawan,” Anakin asked.

“I will always care for you Anakin,” Obi-Wan promised without further prompting. “You are my friend, and I hope you will continue to be my friend for many long years to come, no matter where our lives lead us.”

“I - I want to see all the stars,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan smiled and nodded. “I - I want to be your Padawan, but it - I want to explore more.”

“I don’t understand, exactly,” Obi-Wan admitted, “being a Knight is everything I ever wanted. But I understand a little I think, what it means to have a dream worth fighting for.” Obi-Wan hugged Anakin before stepping back and adopting that formal Jedi pose. “May the force be with you, Anakin Skywalker.” 

“And also with you, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said with a smile, mind turned toward his beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration for this chapter includes a couple fics and posts from tumblr I’m very ashamed I’m not able to find at the moment for the year long Force-led mission for new Knights and Obi-Wan freeing Shmi when no one else would/did.
> 
> I had hoped to write further into canon, fixing things as I went, but I ran out of steam and ideas, so I tied things off here, where it felt there was something of a natural close.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm also wrennette.tumblr.com, feel free to come say hi!


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